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“You don’t need to ask for my help, or anyone else’s, ever again.” His voice was low. “Because if the paternity test proves he’s my son, I’m going to marry you.”
A rush went through her. A thrill of terror—or was it joy?
“What?” she whispered numbly.
“For his sake.” His dark eyes burned through her. “You will be mine.”
* * *
Lola’s hazel eyes were astonished. As well they should be.
After three broken engagements, Rodrigo had never planned to propose again to anyone. For any reason. His youthful dreams of love and family and home were just that—dreams.
But looking at his sleeping son, he’d felt a hard shift in his soul that shocked him. Looking down at the baby’s face, so much like his own, he’d remembered his own lonely childhood. And he’d vowed, to the depths of his soul, that his son would never feel like Rodrigo had once felt.
Jett would never believe his father didn’t love him. He’d never feel like a burden, unwanted and unloved, as his parents left him in the care of nannies and neglected him for their own selfish romantic pursuits. His son would have a stable home. His parents would raise him together. There would be no instability in their family life, no revolving door of new lovers and spouses. They would be a family. With the same last name.
Lola might hate Rodrigo now, but she loved their son. That was clear in everything she’d done, even taking the million-dollar check that must have hurt her pride. But she’d done it, because she’d feared Rodrigo might try to take the baby from her.
She’d chosen custody of their son over the vast fortune Rodrigo could have offered her.
She’d made a mistake, taking the child from him. But he’d also made a mistake, believing the very worst of her.
For Jett’s sake, he would try to forgive. They would start fresh. He would accept his responsibility to his son. Lola would do the same.
Or would she?
“Marry you?” She breathed, her eyes wide. “You’re crazy.”
“Our son deserves a stable home. Surely you can see that.”
Lola’s forehead furrowed. “He has one! With me!”
He said stiffly, “I’m willing to forgive you for stealing him from me—”
“I didn’t steal him! I was protecting him!”
“But you have to realize that everything has changed now.”
Her beautiful face looked numb. “It doesn’t mean we have to marry. I know how you feel about marriage.” She took a deep breath. “After all your fiancées cheated on you...”
Rodrigo stiffened, wondering how she’d heard. He certainly hadn’t spoken about it over the years. But some people did know. His exes. Marnie. And gossip had a way of spreading, especially in his industry.
“This is different,” he said coldly. “We’re not in love.”
She didn’t look encouraged by this statement. Shaking her head, she lifted her chin stubbornly. “We can set up some kind of visitation schedule.”
“Are you serious?” He raised his eyebrows. “Shuttling our baby from place to place, coast to coast? Always separated from one parent? Never really sure of where his home is? No.”
“It doesn’t have to be like that. Lots of healthy, happy children have parents who aren’t married—”
“Not my son.”
She glared at him. “Why marriage?”
Rodrigo couldn’t explain to her what his childhood had been like. He’d never fully told anyone, not even the three women he’d claimed to love during his brief engagements long ago. He said shortly, “Is it so strange? I want us both to be there for our son. Every day. And for him to feel safe and loved.”
“And you think he doesn’t feel loved now?” she said indignantly.
